


Of Choppers and Men

by FlipThePages



Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: Adelaide is Adelaide, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Comparing Helicopters to Men, Complicated Relationships, Drunken Confessions, Drunken Shenanigans, Drunkenness, F/M, Helicopters, Lovers to enemies to lovers, Past Relationship(s), Secret Relationship, Xander vs Jacob, things get out of hand
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-26
Updated: 2019-01-26
Packaged: 2019-10-16 10:25:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17547926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlipThePages/pseuds/FlipThePages
Summary: The day had started off so normal and promising. Well, what passes for normal in a rural county filled to the brim with crazed cultists preaching about the end of the world. But now, with the help of a little liquid courage, Adelaide Drubman and Val the Junior Deputy spend an evening comparing the merits of helicopters, which somehow turns into a discussion about their tastes in men.





	Of Choppers and Men

This wasn’t how she had planned to end her day.

Nope.

Not at all.

No way in Hell.

It had all started pretty similar to all of the others that had come before it these past couple of months. She’d woken up, nearly suffocating under the fur of her trio of four-legged traveling companions. Who, like it or not, all had a penchant for snuggling. She’d scarfed down a lackluster breakfast of jerky, trail mix that didn’t quite taste right and a gritty protein bar. Then, after taking care of her hygienic needs as best she could, she’d hit the road to do her Deputy duties.

She’d spent the morning hours scouting out the region, having been tromping about this side of the Henbane for about a week or so now. On occasion she’d stop her trek to rescue some locals taken hostage and kill Peggies. She tried her best to avoid as much Bliss as she possibly could manage, though the white sparkles in the edges of her vision were hard to shake.

God, she hated that fucking shit with a passion. She’d never done drugs of any sort before, besides your average over-the-counter and doctor-issued sorts. But that fucking hallucinogenic shit wasn’t making her anymore likely to give the recreational type the time of day.

That was why all of the oregano she always ended up confiscating from Peggie corpses and abandoned homes got donated to Sharky and Hurk’s already formidable stashes.

She’d ate her meager lunch against the trunk of a tree, scanning her surroundings constantly. She wasn’t anywhere she felt safe enough to truly relax, and probably wouldn’t be for some time. Not that she really though anything could sneak up on her with Boomer, Cheeseburger and Peaches with her. Their eyes and ears were far better than hers.

And if the disemboweled and dismembered state of the last Peggies who tried to interrupt lunchtime was any indication…

Oh, yeah, her furry friends were truly a force to be reckoned with.

The afternoon hours were filled with a hectic fight against a Blissed-out cougar, that somehow could clone itself and transform into other animals, liberating an outpost and executing a basement filled with seven foaming-at-the-mouth angels. Like humans with rabies and frightening as fuck when they’re screeching and sprinting at you.

But what really topped it all off was finding a sweet, sweet Prepper stash that had a box of red wine hidden under a bed. And so, with her alcoholic bounty in tow and a recently liberated pick-up truck she decided to seek refuge at the Drubman Marina for the night.

There were better accommodations there than the previous night’s sleeping arrangements and, despite her wishes otherwise, her back was protesting her lack of a proper mattress. It wasn’t terrible, yet, but her spine popped quite a few more times than she remembers it used to with her morning stretch.

But now, with a stomach full of a slightly more adequate supper, she was enjoying an hour or two of leisurely fishing from the end of the one of the docks. Her bear and mountain lion had wandered off to do God-knows-what, but Boomer was sprawled out beside her, half-asleep as she scratched at his exposed belly with a free hand.

What she hadn’t expected was Adelaide Drubman, with two bottles of her looted red and a pair of wine glasses in hand, to join her and start chatting with her about choppers. Boomer left not too soon after that. Probably to go seek attention from some other resident of the Marina. Smart dog.

Helicopters were always a welcome topic, but Addie and her had never really talked-talked, so it started off awkward. Especially, since she was Hurk’s mother and Sharky’s aunt and was all too open about sharing information about her sexual proclivities with her latest boy-toy, Xander Flynn.

But now, with one bottle almost killed and with one more still to go, they were well on their way to being drunk and half-heartedly arguing about their tastes in rotor-craft.

“Addie, you know I think Tulip is a sweet little thing, but I like my choppers with a bit more meat to them,” she protests, her attempt at fishing long since forgotten, as the two women sat side-by-side, just looking out over the calm water.

“You’ve been spoiled with all those burly military models, sweetheart. Tulip is fast n’ agile, just the way I like ‘em,” Addie all but purrs.

“R-31’s are nice, but they got nothin’ on a Super Stallion. Mmm, there’s nothing better than holding the yoke of one of those big boys.”

She misses it. Her time in the service. Not enough to go back, but just enough to be nostalgic.

“Bulky. I’ve seen those birds on TV. No grace to ‘em,” the older woman scoffs with a curl of her lips.

“Careful, Drubman, them’s fightin’ words.”

“Val, honey, your tastes just aren’t…”

“Aren’t what, Addie? Come on. Say it. I dare ya,” she challenges with a grin, before aggressively swigging down the dregs of her latest glass of wine. Was it her third? Or maybe her fourth? She really wasn’t keeping count, just belatedly noticing her level of drunkenness, which was rising quite quickly.

“Nothing, nothing. Who am I to judge what you like in a chopper?”

“Hmph,” Val huffs.

Silence fell. Not the awkward sort, just a natural quiet as the women replenished their supply of wine. The first bottle was empty and the second bottle was soon to be as well if they kept going at this rate. But it was far better than many of the other possible alternatives.

A great many of those possibilities were some variation of getting shot at by Peggies or being assaulted by ravenous wildlife. So yeah, getting wine-drunk with Adelaide Drubman wasn’t half-bad at all.

The silence kept, though, she was concerned as to why Addie wasn’t ogling Xander’s ass right now. It was sunset, so he should’ve been doing his yoga. But no, the older woman stayed sitting, sipping her wine and gazing out over the lake.

Until Addie decided to open her mouth again and fire up the argument once again.

“Agility.”

It took Val a moment to connect-the-dots, but she soon caught on to the angle she was working.

“Power,” she shot back, only slurring slightly on the R at the end.

“Speed.”

“Strength.”

“Nimbleness!”

“Versatility!”

On an on they went. Back and forth and back and forth. Trying to one-up the other about the merits of their preferred helicopter model. Adelaide’s Tulip, a Kaumbat R-31 Air Buzzer, or the choppers Val used to fly back during her stint with the United States Marine Corps, a Sikorsky CH-53E Super Stallion.

Oh, how she missed flying those monsters.

Not that their one-worded responses were in anyway proving their points. It was more like a game.

A game between two incredibly tipsy women, one of whom was _the_ Adelaide Drubman.

So, of course, Val should’ve seen the direction the conversation would take after they’d run out of accurately descriptive words about choppers. They’d now switched over to Adelaide’s other primary area of interest…

“You know, sweetie, there are similarities between our tastes in choppers and our tastes in men,” Addie coos and Val’s lips pull into an instinctual frown.

_Attention passengers, we are now leaving the Conversational Comfort Zone._

“Addie, you know I don’t like talking ‘bout that. Especially now. With all this,” Val waves her arm, gesturing out towards their surroundings, as if to address the current situation of fucked-up-ness going on all over Hope County.

“Easy, sweetness. No judgement. Or at least, not too much judgement. But you’ve gotta see it too! Don’t ya dare tell me you don’t!”

Oh, she did. Even through the haze of wine she could see Addie’s point clear as day. Xander was every bit as nimble, agile and flexible as Tulip, probably thanks to all of that yoga. And her former – current – whatever the fuck he was – was very much relatable to a Super Stallion.

So big, so strong and so powerful. Then and now.

Despite the uncomfortableness of the topic, she couldn’t help the warm tingle of excitement that rolled down her back and settled low in her gut.

_Fuckin’ Hell…_

“Xander’s like my sweet Tulip and your Stallion is that murderous mountain-man Jacob Seed,” Addie purrs out lowly and, no matter the fact that Val had already come to that conclusion, she chokes on her poorly timed gulp of wine.

She sometimes regrets admitting her past with that man to _select_ members of the Resistance.

Like now, for instance.

Right this very God damned second.

As Adelaide Drubman cackles with unrepentant glee and she’s hacking and coughing for air.

“Addie…” Val whines petulantly, or rather wheezes, embarrassment adding even more red to her cheeks than the drunkenness had. At this point she’s behaving more like a teenager whose parent just learned about her secret crush, rather than a thirty-something year old woman who was engaged in a mature romantic, and sexual, relationship with another adult.

Admittedly said person is now _technically_ her enemy…

“Hush now, honey. Ain’t nothin’ you’re be able to gonna say that’s going to change the fact that I’m right.”

And drunk or not, Adelaide Drubman was right. Jacob was a big man, easily taller than either of his brothers, or even most of the men in Val’s family, and heavily muscled to match. Not ripped in the way some men who work for fitness are, but the dense-pack sort of musculature of someone used to hard labor and high levels of physical activity.

And she had loved it. He had been her type of man to a tee. She wasn’t a particularly small woman, so having a big guy like him as her lover had been just what she needed. And in the deeper and darker recesses of her mind, the part that didn’t think about the morality of the current situation, she still wanted him. She still wanted him bad, but not enough to compromise her morals.

But those reasons were why she had picked him up all those years ago. She’d seen that red hair and those broad shoulders across the sand-dusted way, dressed in desert camo, and knew she wanted to fuck his brains out. Things had just escalated exponentially from there.

But now here she sat, thinking about Jacob fuckin’ Seed, and getting all hot and bothered because of it. How he looked and still looks. How he felt. Holding her, behind her, on top of her, inside of her…

And on that note, it was really time to go before this got any worse.

Try and sleep this alcohol-induced insanity away before she does something incredibly dumb. Like calling him over the radio for a booty-call, or something equally idiotic. Not that she thought he would take her up on it. They’d only spoken a few times so far and only seen each other, for real, once. Rekindling their former romance was not something that was really high up on her list of things to do. Especially, because she’d seen the shit he’s been doing up in the Whitetails and it makes her sick.

Oh, no.

She had been too slow and too fucking late to get up and leave, because Adelaide Drubman still had more to say, apparently.

“So, Val, honey, you’ve gotta tell me one thing. Is Jacob Seed any good in the sack?”

She opens her mouth. Closes it. Opens it again. She’s either going to tell Addie where to stuff her curiosity or… or…

“God, Addie, he’s the best I’ve ever had. Not that I’d been with that many guys before him, but ugh… Best five years of my life.”

Or she’s going to say that.

Please, someone shoot her now. She scans the sky for hopefully a Peggie plane or chopper, because she cannot deal with waking up in the morning anymore. And that’s because Adelaide is never going to forget any of this. Drunk or not, no wine-induced hangover will be able to wipe these treasured secrets from her mind.

“Oh? What’s he like? Sweet? Slow? Rough? Can’t say I didn’t try to imagine what it’d be like to ride that beast…”

“Paws off, Addie,” she hisses, defensive and territorial, even though he isn’t technically hers anymore. Still she’s well and truly drunk and she can think and say whatever the fuck she wants to. Nobody gets Jacob but her. Not then, not now and certainly not anybody in the future. He’s hers.

“Down, sweetness, I ain’t after your man. Xander’s just perfect for me,” she soothes, before that devious glint is back in her eyes. “But you still haven’t answered my questions.”

“Bit of everything, really. As I said, _versatile_ ,” she preens with a smug smirk, drawing back on one of the words she’d used for the Super Stallion. And boy, was that accurate. After a bit of practice, the two of them had had a vigorous and never boring sex life. Always trying something new, albeit within reason, because they were sneaking around and breaking fraternization regs left and right.

“Lucky girl.”

“Mmm,” she hums in agreement. “So, is Xander any good in bed? All that yoga ought to make him nice and limber, right?”

Adelaide giggles. Actually, giggles. Like a schoolgirl. Whether is because of her question or the copious amounts of wine they’ve drunk she can’t tell, but it honestly frightens Val just a smidge.

“Oh, that sweet Southern California boy is just lovely. So attentive. Just the sort of new thing I needed,” the older woman purrs, looking around as if to spot her latest boy-toy, but he’s nowhere to be found. Probably better that way. Don’t think anybody appreciates being talked about like a piece of meat or a new bit of jewelry.

“So, honey, here’s the real question. Who do you think is the better lover? Xander or Jacob?” Addie asks as a follow-up and Val can’t help, obviously with the help of far too much liquid courage, to consider the question seriously.

“Jacob, definitely. Big man like him, makes you feel all warm and safe and secure in his arms even when you’re not fuckin’. And all that muscle and stamina put to work in the bedroom. Mmm. Multiple rounds. Good times,” Val states with warm smile, fondly remembering, before concluding her drunken reasoning. “Xander’s too thin, probably not so excellent stamina. Too beach boy, not enough lumberjack.”

“I can see your point, but you’re still wrong,” Addie refutes, and its almost like a classroom debate, except they’re talking about men and having sex. “Thinness isn’t a problem. He’s plenty warm and plenty muscular with plenty of stamina. But it’s those nimble little fingers of his that really sell the ticket, sweetheart.”

And it devolves from there.

The wine is long gone. They’ve polished both bottles off over the course of less than two hours, and they are both far, far, far away from sober. Adelaide continues to try and prove that Xander is better in bed than Jacob was, while Val does her best to argue back. Eventually, it becomes another one word back and forth battle to the point where Val decides that she’s had enough of Addie’s inability to admit that Jacob was a better lover than her precious SoCal yoga boy.

She rises in a huff, fishing rod long forgotten, and begins to stumble her way back in the general direction of the double-wide she’d been given to sleep in for the night. But before she could get too far, she turns back and chose gives Adelaide one last parting shot. Which, in hindsight, she would probably later regret saying.

“One time, when we were together, we fucked for four hours without a break! Bet Xander can’t go that long!” she called out, not giving a damn who heard her, and probably not being entirely accurate.

They’d been on leave together and all she remembered from that day was that fact that they’d never put clothes on and didn’t really leave the bed much. She knew they’d set a personal record or something, but she hadn’t though about it in so long…

“You’re full of shit!”

_And time for the punchline…_

“And, you know what, I’ll bet even now we could beat that record!”

“I’ll be sure to let Jacob know you said that, sweetheart,” Adelaide crowed out challengingly, but she ignored it and continued stumbling away. Miraculously, she found her way into bed without somehow falling into the lake and drowning.

* * *

 

She slept late the next day and woke up with what was easily one of the worst hangovers of her life. She hadn’t been much of a drinker before all this, but now… Sometimes the alcohol made things just a little bit easier to deal with. But only sometimes.

But she’d climbed out of bed, downed some painkillers with water and got on with her day, despite the headache and nausea. Setting back out into the Henbane with her animal companions just as she had the day before.

And then her day was made all the worse when her radio crackled to life at her hip.

It was set to broadcast from most of the available channels, Peggie or Resistance, so that she could hear anything and everything going on. The only channels she couldn’t listen to were the heavily encrypted ones that Joseph and the other Seed siblings used to communicate by.

She unclips the radio, looking down at it, waiting to hear what was going to be said and nearly drops it soon after.

“So, tell me, Deputy,” Jacob Seed’s voice hisses out from the speaker, “What was this I heard about us beating our sex record?”

**Author's Note:**

> Starting an unknown number of one-shot type ficlets to help flesh out a larger work that is in progress. Trying to nail down my head-canon Dep before I start writing her for real. Enjoy!


End file.
